


nothing at all

by electriceell



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Assault, College era, M/M, assault aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriceell/pseuds/electriceell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nothing, really.</p><p>But if it's nothing why can't Matt make himself move?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know... this just started and I couldn't stop writing it. Sorry I'm human garbage and can't stop writing Matt non-con and/or Matt suicidal fics...

It was nothing, really.

He and Foggy had somehow been talked into going to this frat party. Well, Marci had talked Foggy into going to this frat party and Foggy had talked Matt into going and that was that. Staying in and studying would have been fine, but Matt was getting stir crazy. Hanging out with Foggy and Marci at parties could be fun (until, of course, Marci starting whispering not-so-sweet nothings to Foggy, which Matt could hear all too clearly, and Matt quickly excused himself before he could smell Foggy’s arousal). The night had passed much as he expected. Marci and Foggy were making out rather obscenely against a wall and Matt was just hanging out on the edge of the dance floor with the end of his third (or was it fourth?) cup of jungle juice. The more he drank the less chemical it all tasted…

He had figured he would just finish this drink and head home. As he crossed the floor dispose of his now empty solo cup, firm hands grabbed his hips and pulled Matt’s back flush to his body. This made Matt uncomfortable, but it was a college thing, right? Hook-up culture? And Matt hadn’t really been with a guy before, but experimenting while drunk was a college thing too, right? Foggy was always telling him he needed to live more so, maybe he’d give this a shot. He wasn’t some damsel in distress; he could stop this any time he wanted to. 

Except he didn’t. First it was just dancing and Matt could feel the guy's erection pressing against his ass uncomfortably, but, hey, they were drunk. And then they were making out and Matt wasn’t super into it, but whatever, it was just kissing, no big deal, right? The guy’s stubble rasped uncomfortably against Matt’s shoulder as the guy sucked hickies onto his neck. Those would be embarrassing to cover up, but again, no big deal. Matt had been told he was attractive for a while now and he heard how people’s heartbeats hitched when they met him, but, in the past, no one had ever really wanted to cross the line and try being with a blind guy. So he was inexperienced and maybe this was just how it went sometimes.

But then… then there were the hands manipulating his body, turning him around, one hand snaking into his jeans, under his boxers, cupping his ass and squeezing. And maybe it was supposed to feel good and maybe it would feel good if he weren’t so drunk but it hurt. It hurt more than it should have, pain radiating out from blazing hot fingers and he wanted it to stop. But it didn’t. Instead, the hand wandered lower, fingers circling his asshole, prodding at it, shoving into him. It felt like he was being torn apart as a voice whispered in his ear, “yea, you like that, don’t you? You like me filling you up, you little slut.” He could smell the guy getting more and more aroused, rubbing himself on Matt’s stomach.

It was nothing, really. 

But then why couldn’t Matt get off this bench? He didn’t know how long he had been sitting here with his head in his hands, hunched over. He had left the party after some indeterminate time, after the hands finally released him, after the guy came in his pants, after Matt had bled enough that he smelled it through his alcohol-haze. But it was nothing. Stick had hurt him much worse than this, had broken his bones, bruised his ribs, given him a concussion, among other things. This was certainly not worse; just a bad hook-up. So why weren’t his legs moving? 

“Heyyyy Matttyyyyy! Don’t tell me you passed out on the bench, buddy! Let’s get you back to the dorm!”

Foggy was too loud. Matt just curled in further.

“Murdock, you little weirdo! Time to go beddy bye!” Marci singsonged and Matt flinched. He hadn’t realized she was with Foggy.

Foggy plopped down next to Matt and poked him in the side, which is when he heard the little sobs Matt couldn’t contain. 

Marci drew a breath to continue ribbing Matt when Foggy interjected, “Shut up Marce, I think something’s wrong.” Wrapping his arm around Matt and pulling him close Foggy murmured, “What’s going on Matt? Are you sick or something?”

“’s nothing Fogs. Go home with Marci, I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Nope.” Foggy could be damn stubborn. “You don’t have to tell me what’s up, but I’m not leaving you alone on a bench while you’re drunk off your ass. It ain’t happening bucko.” Matt felt the bench dip a little as Marci seated herself on Matt’s other side.

“Matt…” Marci’s voice was low and hesitant, not a tone he’d ever heard Marci use, “Matt, you flinched when Foggy touched you. Did someone assault you or something?”

“Come on Marce, that doesn’t happen to guy,” Foggy is saying as a quiet, “Maybe,” slips from Matt’s lips.

“Oh, Jesus, no. Matt. No.” Foggy’s heart takes off galloping and it’s thunderous in Matt ears. “No, no, no… I’m sorry, Matty,” He continues muttering, arm pulling Matt closer to him, trying to ward off dangers that had already come and gone. 

Matt feels the loss of Foggy’s touch as Marci peels his hand off. 

“We need to get you home Matt. I’m going to put my hand under your arm to help you stand up and stay steady, okay?” Marci’s heartbeat is steady, elevated, but steady. _She’s done this before_ is all that Matt can think and that makes something deep in him ache with pain.

Marci helps Matt stand up and reaches behind Matt to slap Foggy in the back of the head to bring him back to the present. “Get your head out of your ass and help your friend,” Matt hears her hiss at Foggy, who nods in response.

It immediately becomes clear that walking is quite painful for Matt, no matter how well he suppresses the moans of pain. The taste of salt invades the air as Foggy begins crying in earnest, but Marci remains steadfast. 

“We’re super close to the dorm Matt, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t seem like Marci was really expecting a response.

They take the elevator up to the third floor (thank god for ADA compliance in dorms) and Foggy finally kicks into action. 

“Okay Matty, what do you need? Some water?”

What does Matt need right now? To go back in time and make it so this didn’t happen. He could have stopped him, even made it look like blind, drunk flailing and incapacitated the guy. But no. He stood listless and useless as somebody used his body. Maybe he deserved it. Stick would be so disgusted by him. That is if Stick hadn’t already figured out how useless and weak Matt was…

“Hey Matty? I’m going to rub your back if that’s okay. You’re hyperventilating and I need to you to breath with me, okay?”

The flinch is involuntary, but the warmth of Foggy’s hand on his back and the even sound of his breathing and Marci’s heart help Matt come back.

“How about a shower?” Marci suggests. “Foggy will go with you and stand guard, although I doubt too many people will be up and about. I’ll make you some of that fancy ass tea you have for after the shower. Sound good? Good.”

Matt nods along with Marci’s planning. Getting the smell of that guy off of him would be nice. As would removing the dried coating of blood on his ass. Remembering the blood and what it means makes Matt shutter.

“Alright buddy. Let’s go to the dorm and get your shower stuff, yea? Great.”

Together, they make their way slowly down to their dorm room and Matt get’s his bathrobe and shower supplies and Foggy produces the hot pink exfoliating loofah his sister had joking sent back to school with him.

“Thought this might help, you know, scrub off all the gross. What do you think, Matty?”

Matt reaches out and Foggy places the loofah in his had, careful not to make skin contact without warning and Matt hums appreciatively. Shakily, Matt makes his way down to the hall bathroom with a little help from Foggy.

“You know we can’t lock the doors, but do you want me to come in and sit nearby or I can wedge the door closed with something or… I don’t know, I can use my terrifying Viking presence to scare off anyone who wants to come in to the bathroom or I could maybe —”

“Would you just… sit at the end of the shower block?” Matt asks tentatively, voice shaking just slightly.

“Of course, man. Whatever you need, you tell me. You need some water, I’ll get you some water. If you want Chinese food in the shower, I will somehow make that happen. You want a unicorn, I’ll go find a unicorn. Whatever you need. Period.”

During Foggy’s monologue Matt had gone into a shower cubicle, pulled the curtain closed and started peeling off his clothing. The shirt went first, but as Matt pops the button and unzips his jeans he starts to shake and collapses to the ground.

“Woah buddy! You okay? That’s a stupid question. Let’s rephrase that: are you in immediate danger that you need me to assist with?”

“Fogs.”

“Yea?”

“Do me a favor and just keep talking.”

“Sure thing Matty. Not something I get asked very often, if you would believe it. Usually it’s just ‘shut up Foggy!’ or ‘someone make that kid stop talking now’ or some sort of nonsense like that. But you get me Matty. And I get you. I’ll always be there for you man. Always.”

Foggy takes a beat and hears Matt’s quiet sobs shutter to a halt. Taking a breathe, Foggy continues prattling, hoping that it’s enough to let Matt cry and grieve and maybe not think about it, although Foggy doubts that’s the case. He talks for almost 45 minutes and his throat is getting sore before Matt stumbles out of the shower in his robe; his skin a little pink from the hot water or scouring his skin or both. Stepping to the side, Foggy lets Matt leads the way out of the bathroom and trails behind him, catching sight of the streaks of blood red staining the cream towel in Matt’s hand. 

By some miracle, Foggy gets to the toilet before he starts throwing up. And Matt’s there at his side, rubbing his back, telling him he’s going to be okay and Foggy cries harder.

A broken ‘no’ escapes Foggy’s lips as he reaches for Matt to pull him into a hug before he remembers he can’t touch his best friend anymore because someone ruined that. But Matt pulls Foggy into his arms and they sit and they cry on the disgusting floor of their Columbia dorm room bathroom. They stay like that, a tangle of limbs and tears, until Marci knocks lightly on the door to check on them.

Poking her head into the Men’s bathroom, Marci sees Matt and Foggy and catches herself tearing up. “You guys want to move this somewhere less gross and more comfortable?”

Matt chuckles and Foggy helps him to his feet, the movement still difficult for Matt, pain clear in his face. 

Back in their dorm room, there are already three mugs of tea set out and Foggy shoots and inquisitive look at Marci. 

“Swiped your key when you were heading down to the bathroom; figured I might need it.”

Climbing into his bed, Matt forms an armor of blankets and cradles his tea close to his chest. Marci hands Foggy and mug and takes one for herself before settling in a desk chair near Matt’s bed.

“Do you want to talk, Murdock? Like, I know it’s hard, but these things can’t just be buried; they need to be dealt with. I can leave or Foggy can leave or we can turn off the lights and Foggy and I can stand guard at the door and you try to sleep. Whatever. You kind of have to make the rules now.”

Matt can tell that Foggy is nodding along with Marci because he can hear his hair sliding up and down against his cotton t-shirt.

There’s a long silence as Matt tries to figure out what the hell he needs. He wishes it hadn’t happened and part of him wants to pretend like it didn’t, but a bigger part of him needs someone else to know. He needs Foggy and maybe even Marci to know because then maybe it will begin to make sense. 

“It was at the party. I was just heading out when some guy grabbed me and I didn’t stop him. I let him… you know, rub up on me and kiss me…”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Matthew, for this brief announcement: **it was not your fault**. You didn’t let him do anything to you; he didn’t ask if you wanted it and you didn’t want it so it’s assault. Plain and simple. You want to be a lawyer, right? You’ve got to know these things…”

“Woah, Marce. Easy. Maybe don’t lay into the guy who just got… you know.”

“Say the word Foggy. Assaulted. But you make a fair point, sorry Murdock. No harm meant.”

“’s okay, Marci. No big deal.”

“Ugh. Yes it is. If someone hurts you, say something, okay? Sorry I’m me, you didn’t need that. Keep telling us what happened, if you’re still okay to do that?”

If Matt’s going to be honest, Marci being so very Marci was comforting.

“Yea, well, he, um, he was kissing me and, oh God, my neck…” It’s only as Matt says that that Foggy notices the large, dappled bruises growing on the right side of Matt’s neck and the stubble burn below it. “Um, so he did that and, um…” He can’t say it. The words feel stuck in his throat. _He groped me and shoved his fingers into me and, dear God, it hurt_. Matt can form the thought, but somehow the brain to mouth connection was not happening. He can feel himself opening and closing his mouth, a bit like a fish.

“Look Matt, do you want me to go? I totally get if this is just a Foggy and Matt conversation. I can stand guard outside or get more tea or just piss off. Whatever you need, dude.”

“I… I can’t believe I’ve already monopolized this much of your time Marci. Please, don’t worry about me. You should take care of yourself.”

“You Catholics are so annoying.” 

“She rolled her eyes really hard,” Foggy narrates.

“Seriously Murdock. I actually want to help you and to be here if you want me so tell me what to do.” Marci pretends not to see the quiver in Matt’s lips as he processing what she’s saying.

“I guess… if you’re okay with it, would you just, um, sit outside the room? Seriously though Marci, you’re probably so tired. Please go to sleep if you want to.”

“Marci!” Foggy admonishes, “She’s giving you the middle finger. It’s a sign of endearment; really, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

A weak smile creeps onto Matt’s face.

“Okay, buddy, do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“The words are there, Fogs, but I can’t say it. I don’t even, I’m not sure I really even know how to say it. I don’t… I just don’t know.” Foggy can hear Matt’s breathing becoming erratic and so he does what comes naturally, he reaches for his friend. 

“It’s okay if I hold you, Matty?”

“Yes, please.”

They situate themselves so Matt’s settled between Foggy’s legs, head resting on his shoulder, so Foggy can gently stroke Matt’s unruly hair.

“Look, Matt, I saw the blood stains on your towel. Did this guy, you know, like, put his fingers in you?”

The rasp of Matt’s stubble on Foggy’s shoulder answers the question he was afraid to ask. Matt starts shaking or maybe it’s Foggy, but Matt stays cradled in Foggy’s lap where he rocks him gently back and forth.

The next morning, they wake up like that, curled around each other, without any memory of passing from consciousness to unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up with Foggy folded around him, it’s comforting. Matt feels safe and warm for the few moments it takes for him to remember how they ended up like this, Foggy wrapped protectively around Matt, fingers tangled in his hair.

 

And then Matt starts hyperventilating. He can hear Foggy’s breathing losing the slow even rhythm of sleep, probably disturbed by Matt’s encroaching panic attack. After untangling himself from Foggy, Matt rushes to the stairwell and the weird alcove, that was once a coatroom, maybe? It doesn’t really matter, Matt’s just thankful for the pseudo-private place where he can get his breathing under control.

 

_The mind controls the body. Mind controls the body. Mind controls the…_

 

But his mind… it won’t focus. He tries to center his thoughts on his body but then he has to feel the pain, not just where that guy… he can’t even _think_ the word, but everywhere. His muscles ache from holding himself tense and from the racking sobs that he let slip out last night in the shower. While Foggy stood guard. Oh, god. Foggy.

 

Matt expands his senses to try to find Foggy, who, as Matt expected, is checking around the dorm, looking for Matt; the distinctive tang of fear in Foggy’s sweat is heavy on Matt’s tongue. He needs to let Foggy know he’s okay, he’s here, he just needs to get himself under control. But he can’t move from his hiding spot and worrying about Foggy has him gasping for breath. It feels like he can’t get enough oxygen despite the huge gulping breaths he’s taking.

“Matty?” Foggy voice echos up the stairwell, high with fear. He must hear Matt’s gasping breaths because now Foggy’s sitting himself down next to Matt, leaving space, so they aren’t touching.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy says, reaching his hand toward Matt slowly, telegraphing his movement before adding, “I’m going to put my hand on your back, if that okay?”

 

Matt nods and feels himself relax just slightly as Foggy starts rubbing gentle circles on his back.

 

“Okay, buddy. It would be great if you could just take some slower breaths with me.”

 

Matt nods again and he tries to slow his breathing, if not for him, for Foggy, whose racing heart betrays his calm demeanor. The harder he tries the less control he seems to have and tears are welling up in his eyes, like he’s a frightened little 10 year old again.

 

“Matty I’m going to hug you, okay?” Foggy asks as he scooches carefully behind Matt and pulls his front to Matt’s back, wrapping his arms firmly around Matt’s waist.

 

“I need you to breath with me,” Foggy murmurs into Matt’s hair, as he stakes takes deep breathes. The rise and fall of his chest moves Matt and he can focus just on Foggy’s breath and Foggy’s chest on his back and Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.

 

“There you go, buddy. That’s right.” Foggy starts to slide away, but Matt clamps his hands on Foggy’s arms and holds him close and Foggy is more than happy to oblige. Squeezing Matt closer, Foggy rocks them back and forth gently, rests his chin on Matt’s shoulder, and quietly whispers ‘it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.’

 

 

Foggy manages to coax some water into Matt. He had steadfastly refused to go to the dining hall and Foggy can’t argue with that, but he needs Matt to eat so he ordered burgers from Matt’s favorite diner. Simple, greasy comfort food seemed like a good idea in the moment, but Foggy hadn’t considered the fact that he would need to leave Matt alone in the dorm to go pick up the food. Foggy waffles over casually inviting Marci over to just keep an eye on Matt, but there’s not a chance Matt wouldn’t see through that. Marci didn’t exactly hang out with them, particularly not Matt and Foggy knew Matt well enough to know how uncomfortable he would be with Marci being around. So after water and some fancy tea pilfered from the dorm kitchen Foggy cocoons Matt in his softest blanket and rubs circles on Matt’s back until Matt starts to drift off.

 

Leaving Matt napping, Foggy runs out of the dorm and starts the half-mile trek to the diner. Apparently his anxiety over Matt makes him move significantly faster and he picks up the food and gets back to the dorm in record time.

 

He can hear Matt’s shouts from the hallway.

 

Foggy nearly drops the bag of food in fright, terrified that somehow, some way, the asshole from last night had gotten into their dorm and was hurting Matt, again.

 

He flings the door open to find Matt struggling against the blanket Foggy had swaddled him in. _It was supposed to make him feel safe,_ Foggy thinks, his heart dropping, _but I couldn’t even do that for him…_

 

Setting the food down on the floor, Foggy moves over to Matt’s shaking, shouting form. While trying to free Matt form the blanket, Foggy gently tries to shake Matt awake. The punch Matt lands in response is a glancing blow, but still hurts like hell and Foggy yelps and jumps back. The force of the punch throws Matt off the bed and onto the ground; he wakes up with a frightened shout.

 

Matt eyes dart around like he’s trying to see where he is, his pupils dilated in fear. Even before Foggy can get his shit together and make his presence known, make sure Matt knows he’s safe and with Foggy and that he doesn’t need to be afraid, Matt visibly relaxes. He lets out a soft exhale of ‘Foggy’, before he pushes his back against the bedframe and anchors himself into a standing position.

 

Moving slowly, as if approaching a spooked animal, Foggy walks towards Matt and, when Matt starts to sway towards him, he catches his weight and lowers him back onto the bed.

 

“Hey, buddy. I picked up the food, if you wanna, you know, eat?” Foggy is really unsure as to what protocol is at this point and maybe he should have brought Marci in because she actually knows what she’s doing… But Matt is so private; Foggy can’t imagine bringing anyone else in. It would hurt Matt too much.

 

“Yea,” Matt says, voice shaky and rough, “Yes. Thank you Foggy.” His voice is thick with gratitude in the way that makes Foggy’s stomach turn. Like no one has ever taken care of him, like he can’t believe anyone would take care of him.

 

“And… um, how about a movie, too? Maybe just distract ourselves, you know, and not think about things? Does that, um, sound good to you? I don’t really know what you need man. It’s like Marci said, you kinda gotta call the shots.”

 

The silence following Foggy’s awkward, stilted monologue lingers for too long and Foggy starts to worry that he’s fucked up royally, which of course he did because he doesn’t know what to and how could he not be able to just get this right for his best friend —

 

“That sounds perfect, Foggy. A movie. Uh, maybe something Disney sounds nice?” Matt’s face flushes as if he’s embarrassed that he wants something so soft. “I haven’t exactly kept up with movies since, you know…” Matt trails off awkwardly and gestures vaguely at his face.

 

“Perfect!” The false cheer in Foggy’s voice sounds wrong and grating and Foggy cringes at it’s sound. “You and me, we’re going to watch Finding Nemo and cry about fish and their feelings, okay? Okay. I’m setting your water and burger at you 10 o’ clock on my desk and napkins at your nine on the bed if you need them. Okay, cool. Yea. This is good, right? Okay. Um, I have a copy of it on my laptop, but I don’t have the audio description, so I’ll just have to narrate, okay?”

 

Foggy startles when Matt’s fingers wrap around his wrist and stops his fidgeting.

 

“Thank you Fogs. Just, thank you.”

 

Foggy stops talking, settles in right next to Matt, and takes a long swig of his milkshake as the opening theme of Finding Nemo plays. He starts trying to capture the perfect blue of the opening shot of ocean for Matt. When Matt rests his head gently on Foggy’s shoulder he thinks, maybe, just maybe, he’s managed to get something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One to two more chapters to come because somehow this story crawled back into my brain and took over


	3. Chapter 3

Matt is shaking with restrained tears when Foggy walks into their room. Somehow, Matt hadn’t noticed his best friend’s approach because he was so distracted by… well everything. When he hears Foggy opening the door, though, Matt startles and turns away, trying to hide his breakdown from Foggy. It’s not that he _really_ cares anymore if Foggy sees him when he’s weak, but because Foggy has wasted too much time taking care of Matt after _It_ happened. He’s been there for the panic attacks and the nightmares, always ready to hold Matt and help him calm down, help him find his center. Matt’s beginning to worry that his center is moving towards Foggy and the more he lets that happen the more it’s going to hurt when Foggy leaves.

 

So maybe it does have to do with Foggy seeing him like this. It’s not that he cares about seeming weak with Foggy, but that he can’t rely on someone. He just can’t go through that shit again. Not after Stick. Not after Elektra. He wouldn’t be left bleeding, even if it would be metaphorical with Foggy. He honestly doesn’t know how he’d make it this time. It was Foggy who put him back together after everything with Elektra and when Foggy left there would be no Foggy to put him back together…

 

Matt must have been so caught up in his head that he didn’t hear Foggy say… something? Maybe just a greeting? Because now Foggy’s leaning across Matt with one hand on his bed, his other hand rests gently on Matt’s shoulder and he’s asking Matt what’s going on.

 

“ ‘s nothing, Fogs,” Matt sniffles. “I just got caught up in my head, you know?” Matt flashes Foggy a weak smile that he knows is unconvincing.

 

“Dude, no. Don’t try to tell me this is nothing, man. It clearly isn’t ‘nothing’ since you literally never cry.” Foggy shifts so he’s sitting next to Matt with his arm around his shoulders. “I’m here for you, buddy; whatever you need.”

 

Matt plans on turning to Foggy and telling him he’s really fine and that he’ll handle this himself. He’ll tell him that he appreciates his help, but he doesn’t want to take up any more of Foggy’s time. Matt plans, in short, to start to rebuild that wall that keeps people away from him.

 

Instead, when Matt turns to Foggy, he breaks down sobbing and buries his head in Foggy’s shoulder.

 

Through Matt’s hiccupping sobs, Foggy can make out the gist of what’s bothering Matt. He’s overwhelmed, it’s all too much, and with all that’s happened he doesn’t know who he is anymore. Foggy knows he doesn’t really ‘get it’ because he hasn’t lived it, but he does understand that this shit is the shit that isn’t supposed to happen to you or people you love. This shit is supposed to be avoidable, supposed to be a problem you know about, maybe even work against, but you aren’t supposed to have to deal with it like this. Not up close.

 

And Matt, Matt’s survived so much. Lost his sight, then his father in quick succession at a young age. Foggy’s never heard him say it, but he has a pretty strong hunch that Matt defines himself by his resilience, maybe even his strength and Lord knows, he is both those things, but Foggy can see how this assault would shake the foundation of that.

 

After a couple of minutes, Matt’s breathing starts to slow down and the sobs devolve to little snuffling hiccups. Foggy finds himself rubbing circles on Matt’s back and pressing soft kisses into his hair. When he first does it, he’s afraid he’s crossed outside of Matt’s comfort zone, but Matt just sighs softly, so Foggy keeps going.

 

They stay like that, cuddled up together with Foggy’s face in Matt’s hair, until Matt turns his head slowly and ever so carefully slots his mouth over Foggy’s. Foggy can taste the salt from Matt’s tears on his lips when he experimentally swipes his tongue over Matt’s lips, which is precisely the moment that he remembers how they got here and why Matt’s crying. Lurching backwards, Foggy pushes Matt off of him with more force than was necessary or a good idea because now Matt looks scared, sightless eyes darting around as if searching for a way out.

 

Foggy reaches out and laces his fingers with Matt, glad to see him visibly relax at the contact and not startle more.

 

“Matty. Look, buddy, I don’t think that _that_ ,” Foggy gestures wildly, “is a good idea right now. I’m not saying I don’t want to do that because, of course I do, you’re my best friend and you’re gorgeous, but do you really want to be, you know, doing stuff given, you know, what just happened?”

 

Without hesitating, Matt nods, before leaning in slowly and pressing a chaste kiss to Foggy’s lips. Foggy responds, allowing the kiss to continue for a few moments, before he pulls back, taking Matt’s face in his hands.

 

“As much as I enjoy this, you’re going to have to talk to me Matt. I can’t read your mind and I really don’t want to fuck up, man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Matt sighs, then pulls away and turns to face Foggy, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his shoulders slumped.

 

“It’s just… I…” Matt gulps before squaring his shoulders, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while Foggy and I just, I need to be close with someone I trust, someone I love.”

 

Foggy lets silence following Matt’s declaration drag on just a little too long, Matt is fidgeting with his jeans in discomfort. Noticing this Foggy rushes to say, “I love you too man. It’s just that I didn’t expect that and I can’t believe that, you know, you love me.” Foggy can feel his cheeks burning red as he surges into another kiss with a little more passion. They take it slow, keeping things relatively chaste and fall asleep in their street clothes, both too tired, too comfortable, too _safe_ to want to disturb the happy, sweet little bubble that they're in.

 

For the first time since _It_ happened, Matt sleeps through the night without any nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished it! Woo! Thank you for all the kindness and patience <3 
> 
> I am, as always, flailing about on [ tumblr](http://electriceell.tumblr.com/)


End file.
